Her life is thin; no depth;
Somehow doesn’t connect:
Flows smoothly, without warmth -
She does her duties, knows the rules,
Knows precisely where ‘Right’ falls
But lacks a strategy.
Oh, the career’s planned, and the kids;
The new-build house with the kitchen just-so,
And the expensive car in the drive -
But there’s no meaning;
Fake feeling:
She’s concealing what she knows.
The mirror hangs on the wall,
The lights are on,
Perfume scents the air -
But she’s not there.
There’s a type of woman who knows all the social rules, who knows how you’re meant to live your life, who’s planned the kids and the house and all the rest of it - but underneath there’s no depth of feeling. She’s hiding from herself an inner knowledge because she refused to explore, to question, when she was younger.
